The Dreaded Prologue

A writer new to the industry hears a lot of rules and guidelines, do’s and don’t’s about how to craft a novel. None of these are hard and fast, though one is encouraged to understand why the same “rules” crop up again and again before going off willy-nilly to break them. There needs to be a compelling reason to ignore all that advice.

I think one of my CPs just gave me a compelling reason.

Since its inception, my current novel has contained flashbacks. In and of themselves, flashbacks aren’t considered a no-no, though some readers have a distinct aversion to them. Because I wanted to sprinkle specific information into my story without starting the thing years beforehand, or slipping it awkwardly into dialog, I took the (quasi-)calculated risk of utilizing flashbacks.

However—and this is especially true of the first one, which currently appears extremely early in the narrative—they can have a jarring effect on the reader. So how do I include that information without pulling my reader out of the story? The answer may just be another of those novelling taboos: the dreaded prologue.

The objection to prologues, as I understand it, is that they often indicate the writer has simply started their story in the wrong place. Why start your story twice (once at the prologue, once at Chapter One)? This argument has always made sense to me, and I regret to admit I’d always felt rather smug that I hadn’t fallen into the prologue trap.

Now, though, I’m seriously considering going there. The inciting incident for my story actually happens weeks before the meat of the plot begins. Putting that catalyst to adventure right up front in a prologue instead of waiting to revisit it in a flashback several chapters in makes perfect sense now that it’s been suggested. I think doing so will create a stronger whole.